It was genius, really! Tempus didn’t know why he didn’t think of it before. The incident with Marimba, or whatever her name was, and her pheromone spray wasn’t exactly an obscure piece of Kent trivia: those infernal Utopians loved to crow about how good and noble their hero was, refusing to take advantage of the woman he desired even when she was offering herself to him on a plate. There was a bit of lip service paid to his being “still a man, really,” by being pushed to the very brink of even *his* great patience, but still: what an admirable saint!
Of course, Tempus had other words to describe him, the mildest of which was “Chump". But now, where he once just saw barf-inducing drivel, he could see sweet opportunity! All it would take would be a slightly harder shove than what the pheromone on its own would be able to provide, and nature would take its course; Lois’s trust issues and Clark’s sheer lunkheadedness would do the rest. The very love that founded Utopia would be its own undoing. Oh, such sweet irony! Tempus loved irony. If irony were a woman…
He shook the thought from his head before it could distract him too deeply. Heh, perhaps he had picked up a whiff of whatever had just been sprayed inside the newsroom. With one hand resting on the gadget in his pocket, he pushed open the door to the stairwell and stepped into the Valentine-themed madness.
They were easy to spot. Clark was the only one in the room trying to run away from his would-be admirer instead of settling matters on or under the nearest convenient surface. At last, he stopped and put a hand up. “Lois, I uh, have to get something out of the closet real quick.”
She beamed at him. “I'll come with you!”
“NO!” he said quickly. “It’s…uh…I’ll just be right back! Okay?”
She pouted, but he was able to get away from her. Oh, this was too perfect! He was going to be alone!
The door to the storage closet had barely shut behind Clark when Tempus slipped in after him. Even so, the man was already tugging open the window on the other side of the room.
“Mr. Kent?” Tempus said loudly before his target could escape.
He whirled around, obviously startled. “O-oh. Hi.” He sheepishly stepped away from the window. “Sorry, I was just…uh…” He looked up at Tempus and froze.
Uh oh. Did he recognize him already? Tempus knew that he hadn’t visited either of them yet at a point before now, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t visit them sooner at a later time. …Tempus decided that thinking about time travel was harder than actually doing it. Anyway, this boded poorly for his plan, but maybe he could still salvage things. He slowly drew the gadget from his pocket, just as Clark stepped forward with a shake of his head.
“Sorry,” Clark said, one hand extended. He gave Tempus a lopsided grin. “I…don’t know what just came over me. I’m Clark Kent. And you are…?”
He let the gadget hang by his side. Was Superdoofus playing at something? Or did he really not know Tempus after all? If he didn’t, then Tempus could reel him in a little closer before bringing down the oar. “John Doe,” he introduced, shaking the proffered hand.
There was no recognition in Clark’s glazed eyes, but he smiled even wider and, come to think of it, this handshake was lasting a little to long… “John Doe,” he echoed softly, stepping into Tempus's personal space, “That’s a nice name.”
Tempus stilled.
Clark still hadn’t let go of his hand. “You have really beautiful eyes,” he observed.
“IthinkIdbettergonow. BYE!” Tempus wrenched his hand free and bolted out the door, letting the gadget fall behind him with a clatter. Nobody in the newsroom noticed the shimmering portal that he soon disappeared into. Forget this plan! This was a stupid plan! He was going to find Mandela or whatever her name was and drop her into a vat of radioactive sharks, and then he was absolutely getting a new hobby.
The End.
